


When The Bough Breaks

by ziusura



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fingering, M/M, Nogitsune Stiles, dark!stiles, sort of spoilers for 3x17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 04:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziusura/pseuds/ziusura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>(spoilers kind of for 3x17)</b> </p><p>No, no, <i>no</i>. Not like this. ‘<i>Derek go check and see what I—</i>he<i>, was doing,</i>’ he thinks, tries to make his body say. ‘<i>Derek he wasn’t just playing with your stuff, or waiting for you so he could confess.</i>’ He doesn’t want his stupid crush to be used as a distraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When The Bough Breaks

**Author's Note:**

> Yo! This is dark!stiles/Derek, so there are some non-con themes (namely that Stiles doesn't have control of his body and Derek doesn't know it's not him), so avoid if you need to. 
> 
> I couldn't get this out of my head after last night and, y'know, seeing Dylan O'brien's hands pulling fireflies out of the Oni. I was hoping someone would write it before me so I wouldn't have to put the work in to read it, haha, but such is life.

Stiles may have wanted this for months—ages even, because it practically was that in jerk off fantasy time—but not like this. Never like this. 

“Stiles,” Derek says, just the hint of concern in his eyes even if his voice is steady, but finding Stiles’ body hunched over in the corner of his loft, fiddling with something, would probably do that. 

“Derek,” his voice echoes, and it sounds just like something Stiles would say, teasing and light. 

Except he isn’t saying it. There's something—someone—moving his body and Stiles can't do anything but watch. It doesn't feel like a possession, like there is someone else in his head, but more like someone's playing puppeteer with his body. At least he could watch now. That's a step up from the usual. 

Stiles’s body approaches Derek, crowding him in until he takes a step back towards the wall. Derek’s back hits the wall and his eyebrows pull up in confusion, but Stiles keeps moving into his space. 

Stiles can feel his heart beating so fast, like he’s doing something brave even though his body feels nothing but calm, and his stomach feels warm, like low grade arousal. 

Stiles stops maybe a foot away from Derek, but it feels like they’re closer; everytime Stiles sucks in a breath he feels heat pouring off of Derek’s chest. 

“Stiles,” Derek says again, stretching the last ‘s’ in a questioning tone.

Stiles laughs nervously and puts his hand on Derek’s shoulder. The tension doesn’t drain out of the muscle underneath his palm, but Derek’s mouth parts, his eyes flicker down. 

_Oh fuck_. Derek looked at his mouth, and like it would if Stiles was in control of his body, heat rushes to his stomach.

“I don’t know how long I can keep this bravery up,” Stiles says nervously. He licks his lips and his eyes look somewhere to Derek’s left, and Stiles can feel the urge to run his fingers through his hair, even if his body doesn’t actually do it. “I-I just thought that if I’m going to die...like my… _anyway_ -” Stiles turns his eyes back “-I just thought that I should do something about this. Us.” 

Derek’s eyes soften, and Stiles screams in his head. 

No, no, _no_. Not like this. ‘ _Derek go check and see what I—_ he _, was doing,_ ’ he thinks, tries to make his body say. ‘ _Derek he wasn’t just playing with your stuff, or waiting for you so he could confess._ ’ He doesn’t want his stupid crush to be used as a distraction. 

Stiles doesn’t say anything Stiles wants him to, and Derek huffs, like he’s nervous or something. Why isn’t he pushing Stiles away? Why isn’t he asking, ‘Why not Lydia?’ Because if Stiles were anyone else, he’d think his dying wish was to kiss Lydia or something too. Why isn’t he realizing that Stiles is trapped in his own fucking head? But Derek doesn’t do any of that. He just pushes up into Stiles’ hand. 

Stiles’ mouth pulls up into a half grin, and the tips of Derek’s ears turn red. He’s adjusting his grip on Derek’s shoulder, and before Stiles realizes what’s going on, his body leans forward. Derek’s eyes slip shut, and Stiles stops just as his lips barely touch Derek’s. He can’t feel Derek’s breath, so Derek must be holding his, and that makes Stiles want to cry. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Stiles says against his lips, and Derek finally breathes. 

“Stiles, just stop talking,” he says, and their mouths finally meet. Stiles’ eyes slide shut, and Stiles stops being able to see anything.

Stiles made out with Heather that one time, and sort of Scott when they were curious kids, but nothing felt like this. Derek’s beard scrapes around Stiles’ mouth when they move in certain ways, like when Derek’s hands came up to Stiles shoulders and he pulled Stiles against his chest, and he's way more skilled than anyone Stiles had kissed before, which _duh_. 

Without his sight he’s even more lost than usual. He doesn’t have control of his body, he doesn’t know what he’s touching or when he’s going to touch. All he has is the echoed sensations of Derek’s body against his, his eyelashes fluttering on Stiles’ cheeks, and their mouths licking into one another. His hearing’s fine, but the sounds of macking without any other kind of stimulation when there definitely should be is kind of disorienting. 

Derek breaks apart to let out a breathy moan before Stiles pulls him back in, and _holy God_. Are his hands on what he thinks they’re on? Stiles can feel rough denim against his wrists and the back of his hands, and that’s definitely warm flesh in his palms. Is he actually grabbing Derek’s ass?

Stiles swallows the voyeuristic guilt bubbling up in his throat and tries to focus on what his body is doing. He’s watching, well feeling, Derek in an intimate moment and he’s not supposed to be there, even if it is his body doing it. 

Stiles’ eyes open and Stiles is actually able to see again. Derek’s just looking down at him, his face flushed, his pupils blown, and his mouth is red and glossy with spit because apparently whoever’s controlling Stiles is that good at faking his own inexperience. 

Stiles giggles a little and squeezes Derek’s ass once or twice before sliding out of Derek's pants. His hands come into view again, and Stiles taps Derek on the mouth lightly with his index and middle finger. Even if there’re no words spoken, Stiles has watched way too much porn not to know what’s happening. And sure enough, Derek’s lips part and he sucks Stiles’ fingertips into his mouth, his eyes dark and looking straight into Stiles’. Right at Stiles, the real Stiles it feels like, and for a second Stiles thinks Derek can actually see him there, stuck in his body. But then Derek’s eyes shut and he tips his head, exposing his neck in invitation. He doesn't see shit. 

Stiles leans forward instantly, but keeps his eyes open this time. He noses at Derek’s neck for a moment or two, shoving his fingers further into Derek’s mouth at the same time, and Stiles can feel the vibrations of his moan in his hand and the up the column of his throat. 

He’s never given a hickey, but his body does it for the first time then. Derek seems to love it if the way the noises he’s making and his hand in Stiles’ hair, pushing him forward into his neck, mean anything. It must be nice being a werwolf—you could love and enjoy getting hickeys all you wanted but never have to worry about the days of embarrassment while it healed. 

“Hey,” Stiles says, and he kisses lightly at the fading marks on Derek’s skin. 

Stiles’ fingers fall out of Derek’s mouth, and he says, “Yeah?” Derek's voice is so rough and Stiles' fingers are so slick that he doesn’t know what to feel. He’s so turned on but the guilt is eating him away. 

Stiles' other hand, the one that isn’t spit slick, trails down to grab at Derek’s ass, his fingers sliding into the space between his legs. “I wanna…” Stiles says, and trails off to squeeze an ass cheek. 

Derek seems to get what he’s asking, even if Stiles barely does, and he full body shivers in Stiles' arms. “Yeah,” Derek says firmly, and kisses the side of Stiles’ head, open mouthed and sloppy. 

Derek shoves his own pants down to mid thigh and spreads his legs so Stiles can slot between them. His dick is flushed and pretty, but Stiles only brushes it with his wrist while he moves his hand between Derek’s legs. Derek seems fine with that, grabbing himself while Stiles ignores it in favor of rubbing his fingertips against Derek’s rim. 

It’s fucked up. Stiles is watching his own hand pleasure Derek, has seen Derek’s dick, but he doesn't have control of the situation. He hasn’t even really touched Derek. 

Stiles leans forward to catch Derek’s lips, and Derek kisses him back dirty, even if his mouth grows uncoordinated when Stiles’ fingers finally slip inside him. It’s gripping and hot and Stiles wants to squirm because he’s never felt anything like this. His fingers are in Derek’s ass and he can feel Derek’s knuckles brush his stomach on every upstroke. 

Stiles quirks his fingers and Derek makes a filthy noise. Stiles’ fingers linger in that space, rubbing and teasing, and Stiles is pretty sure he just found Derek’s prostate because something feels swollen beneath his fingertips. He wants Derek to notice and stop because even if Stiles has compulsively looked this stuff up, there’s no way he has the experience to find it that quickly. 

“Jesus,” Derek laughs and it’s so breathy and Stiles feels betrayed. Maybe Derek’s only been with so experienced people that he’d never know how it felt when someone was a virgin like Stiles. 

And _fuck_. Stiles is a virgin. Or is he not anymore? It’s his body but he’s not doing anything and he just doesn’t know. 

But it doesn’t matter, because his fingers keep teasing Derek and Derek just writhes and pants into Stiles' chest and neck. 

“I can tell you want more; just look at the way you’re sucking me up,” Stiles says, and he twists his hands.

Stiles can’t see what he’s talking about—he’s staring at Derek’s face and his eyes won’t move lower. All he catches is Derek rolling his eyes, half out of pleasure and half at the cheesy porn dialogue that Stiles knows he’s heard somewhere. 

He’s hard. He can feel the tension, the heat, but it feels like an echoed sensation. Like he’s trying to hear through miles and miles of fluid and congestion in his ear. And it’s wrong. He’s feeling it and he’s making Derek feel good, but it’s not him. It’s not Stiles, and he wants to scream. 

Still, it’s a surprise when Stiles looks down and he sees that his other hand is gripping the base of his cock, free from where Derek must have undone his pants. He guesses the hands he felt brushing his stomach weren’t just from Derek jerking himself off. 

“I bet you want my cock in you, splitting you open and fucking and fucking until you can’t do anything but scream my name and come.” 

Derek’s breath hitches above him, and his ass clenches around Stiles’ fingers. He isn’t supposed to be turned on by that; he’s supposed to realize that Stiles wouldn’t be that confident, that this is someone else. But he doesn’t, he just says a breathy “Yeah,” and pulls Stiles up for another kiss. 

“It’s too bad we only have spit, or I would,” Stiles says, teasing, and he doesn’t let Derek say if he’s got any lube anywhere else in the loft. He just shoves his fingers in good and deep and presses his cock against Derek’s, and suddenly Derek’s tensing and coming between them. Stiles wishes he could make a joke about wet shirts, or the smell to Derek's sensitive werewolf nose, but he can't. He can only feel the heat and stickiness between them and hope they don't come out of this too hurt, or dead in Stiles' case. 

Stiles holds him until he stops shaking, and loosens his grip around Derek when he does. 

“I’ve wanted this,” Derek says once he’s caught his breath, his voice so full of feeling, and Stiles breaks.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to hit me up on [tumblr](http://sensualstereks.tumblr.com) because _Jesus that episode last night_.


End file.
